


Hello, Devil. Welcome to Hell

by cozycatastrophe



Category: Supernatural
Genre: One Shot, Spoilers, season 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-06
Updated: 2012-09-06
Packaged: 2017-11-13 16:48:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/505630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cozycatastrophe/pseuds/cozycatastrophe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby is in the hospital, and the boys are attempting to deal in their own special ways. Too bad Lucifer has different plans for Sam and decides to drop in for a small conversation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hello, Devil. Welcome to Hell

Sam hated hospitals. Nothing in his life ever turned out well after a visit to any over sterilized death trap. Hell, more often than not, it was the reason he and Dean became triage medics after a hunt. Both of them would rather suffer through stitching themselves up with fishing line and sewing needles in a dirty motel room than go to the hospital. Hell, Cas had been their go to medic for ye—  
  
No. Sam stopped his thoughts at that one. Losing Cas had been just as unexpected and had been one of the few deaths in the Winchester history that hadn’t been in a hospital and it seemed to have hit Dean the hardest, to the point that Sam still saw glimpses of that trench coat in the trunk of the Impala when they went to grab their weapons and ammunition.  
  
But regardless of the last supposed demise Sam had witnessed, hospitals meant death. Period.  
  
Every time Dean had gone into a hospital, he had or nearly had died. Sure, he had come back, but those memories never faded. After the car crash with Sam, Dean and Dad, after being electrocuted to within an inch of his life… Dean had never gone into a hospital without having nearly died to get in.  
  
Dad had died in a hospital. Hadn’t been because of injuries, Sam had learned later, but it was the same kind of vicious circle of bad luck.  
  
So when he and Dean had rushed Bobby to the hospital, and the smell of antiseptic and death washed over him, he felt like vomiting. The medical team had sped Bobby off to stabilize him and had left Sam and his brother to pace and freak. They snarled and wallowed and wondered what the hell else they could do. Summon Death? Find the nearest crossroad and bury one of their useless IDs? Allow themselves to rely on modern medicine and the doctors that assured them that they were doing everything in their power to save Bobby?  
  
Dean had gone off to make a phone call or something, or maybe it was get a cup of coffee, or maybe he just couldn’t sit still. Sam, on the other hand, had found one of those uncomfortable banks of chairs in the ICU and had settled down into one, eyes constantly on the curtains that shielded his view of Bobby. All he could hear was the doctors talking and the beeping of the monitors hooked up to Bobby’s heart. He couldn’t do anything and was absolutely useless.  
  
This was he—  
  
“Oh, it’s not Hell, Sammy,” a gleeful voice crooned in his ear and Sam nearly jumped. He forced himself to stay still, not indulge the persistent being that was next to him. The voice chuckled and Sam could feel the hot breath on his neck. “C’mon, Sam. Look at meeeee.” The voice drew out the last word, getting closer and closer to Sam’s face with each syllable.  
  
Sam’s fingers immediately moved to his stitched up palm, pressing upon the injury, forcing the voice to waver and fade. After a flash of pain, the leering words stopped and Sam risked letting his eyes slide to the corners.  
  
And they looked right into the Devil himself.  
  
Lucifer had balanced himself on the arm of an adjoining chair, his feet up on the seat and he leaned over his thighs, forearms balanced on his knees. Sam’s fingers squeezed even harder on his palm, nearly hard enough to break the stitches that held his flesh together. He heard a ‘tch, tch’ come from Lucifer’s lips.  
  
“Sammy, you know exactly what Hell is like. This ain’t it. This is faaaar from it.” Lucifer smiled and he shook his head. Sam couldn’t bring himself to fully look at the thing that he knew was in his head. Dean had even proved it in that warehouse. Sam squeezed down on his palm, harder and harder, but the Devil didn’t flicker away and merely chuckled under his breath.  
  
If Sam spoke, or looked directly at him, everyone in the hospital would think he was crazy. They’d take him off to some room and examine him. Take him away from watching Bobby and then Dean would freak and this couldn’t be real and what was in the hospital was real and…  
  
“On the other hand… how do you know this isn’t a little bit of Hell? A small detour from the physical,” Lucifer leaned closer, his lips nearly brushing against Sam’s ear. “and more of a… mental torture? Isn’t that what hurts the most? Seeing your nearest and dearest dying right in front of your eyes with no way to save them?”  
  
Sam’s heart thudded in his chest and he couldn’t pull in a deep breath, nor could he get rid of the evil next to him. Lucifer laughed again and Sam caught the Devil looking directly at the curtains that surrounded Bobby. Anger bubbled up in his chest, almost replacing the oxygen that couldn’t fill his lungs.  
  
Lucifer smiled as he caught Sam’s eye. He shrugged and leaned back. “I’m just sayin’… it’d be a good plan, wouldn’t it? It’d hurt you more than some stupid torture device.”  
  
“You leave him alone, damn it,” Sam snarled softly before he slammed his eyes shut and pressed deeper into the wound carved into his palm. His thumb dug into muscle, ligament and almost through to the bones in his hand, forcing the pain to ripple up his wrist and into his arm. He could hear Lucifer laugh, and then with another bolt of pain, the laughing and the taunting was gone, leaving normal hospital noises.  
  
Just the lonely beeping of a nearby heartbeat on an LCD screen.


End file.
